Saying good-bye is easy.
That’s one thing you learn growing up a military brat. Easy to leave, say sayonara to new friends
you’ve made…and move on. Mostly because in
that life, you come to understand that nothing is permanent. You know going in to a new place that you
will not stay, that there will be a beginning, middle, and an ultimate
end. In one sense, maybe that makes you
seem less true, that you never fully let people or places into your heart. Because to do so means that you’d only be
ripping your heart apart too often, each and every time you have to say
good-bye. So you befriend the people you
meet, you share laughs and good times, as well as some hard times…you do your
best to be a good friend, you help, you give, you listen, you share, you show
the best parts of yourself…you do your best…but a part of your heart always
remains guarded; you don’t allow yourself to feel too close to anyone. Because
it just hurts too damn much when you have to leave…and you’re always leaving…
I’m leaving another place in a few more days. You might say it’s just a job, big deal. But in my work, it’s so much more than the
work, because in my work it’s all about
people. Ironic that I would toil in a
profession that is all about caring and compassion, with caring and
compassionate co-workers, taking care of so many people who need our caring compassion. Like the old Barbara Streisand song: People
who need people…
I know how to say good-bye, I’ve said it so often in my life. But one thing I’ve learned as I grow older,
is that though I know how to say
good-bye, how to leave…rather than
get easier with all this damn practice, it gets only harder. Harder and harder…
The last few weeks and days as a new “good-bye” gets closer and
closer to that time that I must actually leave, my co-workers and friends, my comrades in this war of caring for the
sick, the demented, and the dying, have all expressed their dismay and sadness
that I’m moving on. Sometimes when I see
the sadness in their eyes, hear their words of dismay, feel the vehemence of their embrace, I’m shocked to realize that I
matter that much in their eyes…Because I’m so used to moving on, being
transient, I sometimes forget that I make an impression at all. Maybe it’s because I’m so guarded, against my
own hurt, that I fail to register how others view me sometimes. I’ve always had this vague sense of
invisibility, that because I never stay too long, people don’t notice me, that
I ghost through their lives as only a vague specter…that once I’ve wisped away
in a vaporous memory, they might question if I was ever truly there before them…that
I’m easily forgotten…
It seems odd to realize that people do see me! That I’m not
invisible and I do make an impression. So
it hurts to look them in the eyes and say good-bye. Because, much as I like to pretend it doesn’t
matter, that I don’t matter…it’s obvious I do.
So many of my residents have had that crushed and despairing look in
their eyes these past few days when I confirm the rumors they’ve heard, that I’m
leaving. It hurts because I do care. I care about all of them, even the ones who
are a pain in my ass. You see, that
guard around my heart is only a façade, an invisible force field, a hologram, a
mirage…And much as I like to pretend that I know how to say good-bye, it only
gets harder. Because the further I get
on in this life, the more I yearn for that place, those people, where I can
stay and they can stay with me. A place
of permanence where I belong and they belong with me. A few good people who will ride the rest of
this out…with me. People who I won’t
have to say good-bye to, at least not until that time when either I, or they,
ghost away into the afterlife…
I’m moving on in the next few days, on to another new job,
with new people whom I already know won’t be permanent in my life. This is just another temporary duty
station. I’ll be moving on from there as
well, eventually, as my plans and aspirations do not include being a nurse’s
aide for the rest of my time. The work
is too hard on me physically; I do not want to be so crippled that I can’t do
things I’ve always dreamed of doing. It’s
too hard emotionally as well; I think maybe I’m too empathetic sometimes. I cry too much when my people die. I cry when I have to say good-bye. Sometimes outwardly, but always, always
inwardly. I can’t keep doing this much
longer. It’s time for a real change and
this is only an interim one…I know going in to this new job, this new place,
these new people, that there will come that time when I have to say good-bye to
them as well…
I’m tired of good-byes.
I’m tired of good-bye tears. I
yearn for my long-time, life-long relationships. I yearn for lasting friendships, and perhaps,
maybe, someday (if fate would be so kind)…even a real romantic relationship; a
single soul with whom to share my journey…I’m tired of saying good-bye…saying
good-bye is actually not very easy at all…
